


A song

by Oienel



Series: Drabble Games [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: It's a collection of drabbles I wrote for my song drabble challenge





	1. Talking Bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Tove Lo "Talking Bodies". Kai's smuty angst.

The light seeps through half open doors leading to kitchen. But you don’t see it, your world obstructed by his shoulders. Sheets under your body are wet, and wrinkled, and you feel just like them: spent and in need of washing.

The bed creaks, and shakes, and you would be amazed by the force of his thrusts if you weren’t focusing on your breathing. You have already found your release, he brought you over the edge, and now he was seeking his own paradise. He was going strong, and by now you were pliant in his arms, body and mind already surrendered. But even if you couldn’t take it anymore, even if you wanted to rest, you were taking him readily, down for anything he wanted.

His back is slippery under your fingers, and you can’t even find purchase, nails skipping on the skin. His every thrust sends forward drops of sweat, your chest raising with every shaky breath you take. Your stomach quivers and your pelvic floor muscles still cramp in the aftershocks.

He bites you as he comes, and the pain brings you to tears. It’s your catharsis.

He slides out, not allowing himself to fall on top of you. You are thankful, yet you find yourself wanting his weight on top of you. Mattress springs back to life, as he gets up from the bed, and now you are laying alone in bed, sheets stinking of sex, and you, and him. You are exposed to the air in the room, and even if a moment ago it was too hot, now the breeze is chilling your frame. You look at the ceiling, as your consciousness follows his steps to the doors, and you lose him as he walks out to the kitchen.

Your heart stills.

It’s not like you didn’t expect that. The thing you have with Jongin is a mutual agreement to bring each other over the edge, nothing more. Even that wasn’t actually articulated – it just happens. Your legs are still quivering, and you are still too far away to get yourself to care.

Or you try not to care.

Doors creak, and the soft steps are back. You don’t look at him, maybe he has forgotten something?

There is a cold touch on your cheek and you instinctively take the bottle. You look at him as he takes a sip of his own beer and sits down. He is still naked. You scoot back on the bed, to find a surface to rest on. You lean against headboard and bring the bottle to your mouth. Beer flowing down your throat doesn’t clench your thirst, doesn’t soothe the insides.

You don’t talk, but observe him in the corner of your eye, as he searches for something in his jeans. You eye him as he fishes out the box of cigarettes and the lighter, and you cannot stop staring at his long fingers as he lights one up. His lips around the filter make you want him again.

He scoots back to sit next to you and he uses the upper part of the cigarette pack as his ashtray. You can’t even bring yourself to care, beer lulling your senses. And when he offers you his cigarette, you take it.

Scratching smoke fills your lungs, but you welcome it and the dizziness which comes with it. You fill the silence in the room with the silver smoke.

Beer is gone, cigarette butt is smoldering in the makeshift ashtray, and you are finally talking, bodies communicating what mouths won’t.


	2. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Zyan's "Pillow Talk". Chen's smut.

Falling on the bed is a weird experience. The fall spikes up your adrenaline levels, the contact kicks the air out of your lungs, the suddenly changed position hazes your mind, and before you can pull yourself together, he climbs on board. Your feet are still on the floor, and he has his knees on both sides on your thighs, and his lips are on yours. He kisses you raw, sharp and restless, leaving you dizzy and breathless. The way he drags teeth across your upper lip, how he pulls it, as he moves away, is sensual enough to draw soft sounds out of your throat. He allows you one gulp of air, before he claims your mouth again.

You arch your back, your naked torso rubbing on his equally naked chest. Your hands are on his jaw, the beginnings of stubble brushing your skin. You try to move up the bed, to give both of you more room, but when you break the kiss and scoot up, he just groans, and drags you down by your hips. Your breath hitches as sheets roll up under your back, but you don’t get to voice your protest, once again his tongue is swiping across your teeth, and you can only whine.

Once again your mind is lost, as your position changes, and you open your eyes to stabilize yourself, your sense of balance disturbed. You are on him, his erected cock on the conjunction between your leg and hip. You are the one to initiate the next kiss, but he is the one to end it. But he keeps you close, with a hand on your nape.

_Let’s piss off the neighbours._

The words mouthed against your lips are supposed to be playful, you know that. But the way the vowels roll on his tongue goes straight to your core.

You sink your nails into his chest as you slide down on his cock, his painful hiss your only encouragement. But the heated stare you get, as your pelvises meet it’s enough to make you raise. The quick drop down makes you wail, your head thrown back.

You have found your paradise.

Sweat is collecting on your forehead as you ride, eyes closed, mind dizzy, your thighs pulling like mad, but you can’t stop, you can’t get enough of the feeling, enough of his dick filling you with every slide home, of his head stimulating the bundle of nerves on its way. You roll you hips as long as you can, and you have actually forgotten about the person attached to penis that gives you so much pleasure.

Jongdae sits up, his hands traveling up your sweaty sides, his short nails are sliding on your skin, your own arms coming up to seek support on his shoulders. He holds you close, even if it’s too hot to be this close, and you are too gone to kiss him.

Your body starts to fight, pleasure becoming too much. Your muscles start to cramp, and you find yourself wanting to escape the sensations beginning in your gut. The tears start to pool in the corners of your eyes, and you open them to look at him. Twin vortexes of desire are staring at you, corners of his mouth and his lips open in groan make him look more like a tiger than usual kitten. He feels that you cannot go anymore, that you won’t be able to bring you over the edge, and he falls on his side, taking you with him.

Once again you land on the bed, limps sprawled, but he is still seated inside you and his hand is on your thigh, leading it on his hip. You are face to face, close enough to feel the breath on the skin, he moves slowly, as much as he can, while being in this position. He gathers you in his arms, his hips rolling into you, fighting for every slide home. You hide your head in the nook of his neck, and you scrape your teeth along the jugular. You are both wet, and his hands can’t find the purchase on your back.

It’s sensual, it’s voluptuous. Even if your pleasure subdued while you were falling down, your mind preoccupied with making sure you will emerge alive from this whole ordeal, Jongdae brings you on the edge once again. Bodies together, tight embrace, and the slow drag of his penis on your walls.

He fights to bring both of you over the edge, so dirty and raw are his thrusts.

_It’s your paradise._

_And your warzone._


	3. Little Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Standing Egg's "Little Star" - Kai's fluff.

The paper is new and the page rustles as you turn it. You can still smell the ink and characteristic smell of printing press. Your thumb subconsciously caresses the sheet as your other hand reaches blindly for your cup. Your toes dig in the soft duvet and you bring your lukewarm cup to your mouth, not looking away from the words adorning the white surface, murmuring beautiful story in your mind.

You tip the ceramic vessel to soothe your throat, but liquid relief is not there. You finally look away from the book, hazed, as the reality calls you back. You can see the bottom of the cup and that makes you groan. You’ll need to stand up.

Quiet sound catches your attention and you look up. Jongin is standing in the doors, embarrassing pink cup in his hand, steamy ribbons whirling upwards. He is wearing soft cotton pajama pants and a tank top. His hair is ruffled and there are wired glasses on his nose. He comes to you, and takes the empty cup out of your hand, leaving the pink one on the bedside table.

“I love you.” You moan, as you take a sip of the hot liquid.

“I know.” He answers and once again he is out of the doors. He comes back when you are already engrossed in the story. You hear him draw the curtains close, the night lights of the city disappearing. He reaches the bed and a little tap on the wood informs you that he put his beverage on the night stand on his side of the bed. He slides under the covers and sits, his back on the pillow resting against the headboard. He throws arm around you and you simmer down the mattress to nestle at his side, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your stomach, your fingers entwined.

He brought his own book, but you can feel his eyes on you. You smile turning the page and squeeze his hand once.

“Can I read it for you?” He asks and you offer him your book. He puts his copy away and takes yours. You show him with your finger where you stopped reading and he clears his throat as you both slide down the mattress to make yourself more comfortable. He is more up, so he can read the words, but you are laying down, your head on his chest. This way you can still follow the story on the page, but you choose to close your eyes, as the first sentence vibrates through his body.

His voice is soft, and you know that you’ll need to read this part again, because you can’t focus on the book, the timbre of his voice calming you and lulling to sleep. You are content, warm and loved. The hand that rests on your side is slowly caressing your skin (as it has slipped under your top), fingers drawing intricate patterns on your body.

You don’t notice where he stops reading and he just talk to you. You are half asleep, so the words are more of a background sound.

_Before my story ends, you will dream. When I first met you, it was truly eye-blinding. When I first saw your smile, I felt like I had the whole world. When I see you fast asleep in my arms, I can’t take my eyes off you for a second. You’re so pretty – I feel like my breath will stop. My love, my everything, my angel from heaven. My two eyes, my world – you stole them all._

You fall asleep like that. Safe and warm in his embrace. You don’t know that he looks at you long after you drifted off to sleep. You don’t know that he watches over you long after your breath becomes even.  You don’t know he holds you long after stars fade away on the morning skies.


	4. Little Do You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Alex and Sierra's "Little Do You Know". Chen's angst.  
> Warning: heavily implied cheating.

The Sun is slowly setting. So is the anxious feeling – setting at the bottom of your stomach. The bottomless pit of misery.

_Will he come home tonight?_

The streetlamps turn on one by one, it’s a beautiful sight to observe. Their light will be there all night, to show the way for wandering souls. Is there an illuminated way for you? Will somebody help you out of your despair?

The sound of keys sets your heart fluttering. It’s no longer an excited motion of thousand of butterflies waking up. It’s a staggering pulse of a terrified animal. The wounded one. The one that knows that it has to escape, but knows that there is not enough strength left in its body. The one that knows, that there is no point in running away, since it is going to be haunted down anyway.

You watch him take off his shoes. An answer to his smile is a small smile of your own – even if you feel like crying.

The meal is quiet. Unnaturally so, since both of you are talkative souls. Now only cutlery speaks, the scraping sound of metal on metal puts you on the defensive. You want to scream, but you are afraid to do so.

You both make a move for the last piece of meat. He offers it to you and the lump in your throat only grows bigger, and you can’t take it anymore. The scratching sound of the chair on the tiles is startling and you are surprised to discover you are standing. He looks at you with his eyes wide open. There used to be a time, when you could read those eyes as if it was an open book. Now you don’t even try.

‘Thank you for the meal’ sounds stiff even in your own ears.

He kisses your neck as you wash the dishes. You let him lead you to the bedroom. You let him love you. And even if it feels like making love, when you look at his face you can’t stop to wonder: ‘has he loved her this way? Did he hold her just like you?’

You lay wide awake hours after he drifted off to sleep. The peaceful rising of his chest moves the blanket and you don’t know if you will yourself to stay here or to leave never to come back. You look at the streetlamp outside your window, hoping for it to show you the way.

You sit slowly, cold air hitting your bare legs. Frosty feeling bites at your uncovered arms and you hug yourself as you walk to the window. The chillness in the room helps you fight the tears back.

_What to do?_

The bed behind you creaks and you know he is coming even before you can hear the soft steps. Soft and warm hand finds your side, the other one rests carefully on your arm. Tender kiss falls on your shoulder and you let your body relax in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder, a shaken breath escapes your chest.

_I need more time._

His whisper moves the hair on the top of your head:

_I’ll wait._


	5. Break a sweat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Becky G's "Break a sweat". Sehun's smut.

Strobe lights normally would give you a headache, but now you are too drunk to care. You are at this pleasant stage, where you can just move freely, more following the beat than actually dancing. You can feel the beat surging through your veins and the sensation is even more intoxicating than alcohol you drank.

Your eyes are no longer open, dance floor, people around you – all gone. But you can see the flashes of light that go through the crowd. Your chest works in tight circles, for your hips to follow. On comes the song you know, and automatically you start to mouth the words.

… _better blow my mind._

You open your eyes, because somebody knocks into you. You don’t see the person who stumbled into you, because your hazed mind can only focus on him. Tall and handsome guy standing at the bar, with a beer in his hand. He locks your eyes and you can’t stop looking at his face even when you are swaying your hips. Or maybe you are swaying your hips, because you are looking at him?

He doesn’t break the eye contact as he downs his drink. The way he slides through the crowd to you is so sensual that your body reacts instinctively. Your body is submitting even before he reaches you. His hands are demanding even from the very first touch on your hips. He leads your sways and you fit between his arms. You giggle when you feel his hips roll into you and the evident line of dick slides across your crotch.

You are too hot and he is crowding you, you slide together your bodies accentuating every beat. His touch on you is electrifying. You have your hands in his hair and when his own hand leaves your hip to tangle into your locks, and he yanks your head up, and he noses his way up you jugular, and his mouth find yours you can only whisper again his lips:

… _take me places I’ve never been._

Your mind is blown the moment he thrust into you. You are more than ready, your underwear wet from the moment he approached you upstairs. You can see yourself in the bathroom mirror, your head up as you relish the sensation of being full. You can hear the faint sound of the music, but beat is strong even here, sending vibrations through your body. Or maybe it’s his hips rhythmically snapping into you. You’d be sent forward with every powerful thrust, but he has one hand on your shoulder, keeping you where he wants. The other holds your hips, hold hot and bruising. There is a hickey already forming on your skin and his hair askew from your hands.

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror. You are unable to stop looking at him, even when you start to cramp, even when your mouth hangs open, because it’s too much for you to keep them closed. Even when his hands from your shoulder moves on your throat and up under your jaw, and he uses it to hoist you up. The angle changes and your hands come up to support you, fingers splayed on the mirror. The surface is cold and it gets misted over by your breath.

He is not tiring and you? Your legs shake, but you don’t know whether its need or strain. You just push your knees outward trying to give him more space, to make sure he doesn’t stop. His hands creep down your torso and finds your clitoris and you just can’t take it anymore. You search blindly for him with your hand and your nails dig into his nape. You already look thoroughly fucked, but he has yet to show the strain.

 _Break a sweat._ Your hips start to move and you will yourself to cramp around him. You can’t be only one to lose yourself. The smirk you get in the mirror nearly knocks you over.

 _Don’t get tired yet._ You are so close, you are so fucking close, and your chest heaves, your shirt sticking to your sweat covered body. And yet you don’t want for it to end. Your fingers on the mirror starts to claw on the cold, even surface. Your knees bulk, but you keep yourself up with a hand on his nape. Your eyes are glazed over, and you can barely see him, but you clearly see the mirth in his eyes.

_Keep on doing it._


	6. I Wanna Be Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by The Arctic Monkeys' "I Wanna Be Yours". Xiumin's fluff.

Strobe lights normally would give you a headache, but now you are too drunk to care. You are at this pleasant stage, where you can just move freely, more following the beat than actually dancing. You can feel the beat surging through your veins and the sensation is even more intoxicating than alcohol you drank.

Your eyes are no longer open, dance floor, people around you – all gone. But you can see the flashes of light that go through the crowd. Your chest works in tight circles, for your hips to follow. On comes the song you know, and automatically you start to mouth the words.

… _better blow my mind._

You open your eyes, because somebody knocks into you. You don’t see the person who stumbled into you, because your hazed mind can only focus on him. Tall and handsome guy standing at the bar, with a beer in his hand. He locks your eyes and you can’t stop looking at his face even when you are swaying your hips. Or maybe you are swaying your hips, because you are looking at him?

He doesn’t break the eye contact as he downs his drink. The way he slides through the crowd to you is so sensual that your body reacts instinctively. Your body is submitting even before he reaches you. His hands are demanding even from the very first touch on your hips. He leads your sways and you fit between his arms. You giggle when you feel his hips roll into you and the evident line of dick slides across your crotch.

You are too hot and he is crowding you, you slide together your bodies accentuating every beat. His touch on you is electrifying. You have your hands in his hair and when his own hand leaves your hip to tangle into your locks, and he yanks your head up, and he noses his way up you jugular, and his mouth find yours you can only whisper again his lips:

… _take me places I’ve never been._

Your mind is blown the moment he thrust into you. You are more than ready, your underwear wet from the moment he approached you upstairs. You can see yourself in the bathroom mirror, your head up as you relish the sensation of being full. You can hear the faint sound of the music, but beat is strong even here, sending vibrations through your body. Or maybe it’s his hips rhythmically snapping into you. You’d be sent forward with every powerful thrust, but he has one hand on your shoulder, keeping you where he wants. The other holds your hips, hold hot and bruising. There is a hickey already forming on your skin and his hair askew from your hands.

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror. You are unable to stop looking at him, even when you start to cramp, even when your mouth hangs open, because it’s too much for you to keep them closed. Even when his hands from your shoulder moves on your throat and up under your jaw, and he uses it to hoist you up. The angle changes and your hands come up to support you, fingers splayed on the mirror. The surface is cold and it gets misted over by your breath.

He is not tiring and you? Your legs shake, but you don’t know whether its need or strain. You just push your knees outward trying to give him more space, to make sure he doesn’t stop. His hands creep down your torso and finds your clitoris and you just can’t take it anymore. You search blindly for him with your hand and your nails dig into his nape. You already look thoroughly fucked, but he has yet to show the strain.

 _Break a sweat._ Your hips start to move and you will yourself to cramp around him. You can’t be only one to lose yourself. The smirk you get in the mirror nearly knocks you over.

 _Don’t get tired yet._ You are so close, you are so fucking close, and your chest heaves, your shirt sticking to your sweat covered body. And yet you don’t want for it to end. Your fingers on the mirror starts to claw on the cold, even surface. Your knees bulk, but you keep yourself up with a hand on his nape. Your eyes are glazed over, and you can barely see him, but you clearly see the mirth in his eyes.

_Keep on doing it._


	7. Just a Little Bit of Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired with Ariana Grande's "Just a Little Bit of Your Heart". Sehun's angst.  
> Warning: cheating.

His first steps after taking of the shoes, he makes in your direction. It’s always like that.

He has yet to take of his coat, his keys still in his hand, and you raise from your chair to meet him. His embrace is warm, and comforting, and you bury your face in his chest, as he caresses your hair. He smells of him, his detergent, home and her.

He is always like that when going home, going back to you after visiting the other one. Always loving, tender and in need of your touch, as if he was trying to erase every last evidence of her from his skin. Using your fingers, your mouth, your scent. And you let him, just like you let him believe that you don’t know. You are not a fool, but you are definitely fool for him.

In exchange for his heart, just a little bit of his heart.

Call in the middle of a day, and _honey, there is an emergency I will be home late, don’t wait for me_ is followed by _come back safely._ You don’t even notice the minute pinprick of pain in your chest. As long as he comes back to you.

There is some romantic comedy on TV, and you watch it absentmindedly, as he shuffles in the kitchen. You can hear his footsteps nearing, and you look up with a smile at him. Which still as you notice that he is wearing his overcoat, car keys in his hand. He looks scared, like an animal caught in the headlights. You can see how he thinks of an explaination. You don’t want to hear him lie, you don’t want to make him lie, so you are the one to supply the words: _emergency in work?_ He nods relieved, and he plants a chaste kiss to your forehead, before he is gone.

You know that he will come back smelling of her.

Maybe this time you won’t find her lipstick on his collar.

You are out shopping with him. He complains a lot, and whines to go home, but nonetheless he is caring your bag and gives you opinion on the clothes you try on. He laughs with you, and jokes around, his hands always on you. His touch is warm and comforting, and you can’t stop the smile spreading your lips. You are walking together down the aisle, his hand on the small of your back, and he is snickering at the pun you just said, as you feel his hand slide down from your back.

You don’t even need to look around to know why. You smile brightly at him, just like a fool, ignoring the pain in your chest. You take your bag from him and excuse yourself to the toilet, and you walk away, catching her frame in the crowd.

Your reflection in the mirror is judging and condescending, but you ignore it as you wash your hands. He is waiting outside, his lips just a notch redder than in the moment you left him. He takes your bag from you, and slides his arm around you. Possessively. Lovingly.

The covers are lifted as he slides into the bed. You check the hour and your mind does the calculation. Two times? One with a really long foreplay?

You don’t want to count.

His hands are on you, his chest glued to your back, your legs tangling together. He brushes your hair of your neck and kisses the tender skin here. You are in his arms, you are home, you are safe.

 _You know you are the one I love?_ Words are slurred against your shoulder. Your hand slides down to cover his own, resting on your stomach, and your fingers lace together.

_I know, Sehun, I know._


	8. Wildest Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Wildest Dreams". Chen's smut.

There is a cold metal bar under your fingers, and warm sun beams on your skin. It’s late and the sun is setting. There is a soft, white fabrics draped over you, the tile under your feet pleasantly warm. You know that your cheeks are tinted red and the color of your mouth is more vivid and intense than usual. You know that, you saw yourself in the glass, when you were walking out on the balcony.

There is a new hand in your eyesight. The fingers curl around yours and minute kiss lands on your bare shoulder.

“Nice dress.” He rasps with lips on your neck. You snort and make sure that the white sheet you took from the bed you spend whole day in, still covers your body. Firm hand lands on your stomach and he brings you flush against him, the gesture of a proud owner.

Your heart falls a little.

_Nothing lasts forever._

His body is still hot, even screened off from you by the sheet. He tangles his fingers with your on the metal bar and the kisses on your neck are turning persistent. He tries to make you come to him.

You know that it won’t last forever, but want to engrave yourself in his memory, so you turn your head and he reacts immediately, his lips finding yours as the sun finally disappears. Your mouth is swollen and hurting already, but the way he lick the roof of your mouth gets you swooning. Your cheeks get even more rosy, when he starts walking backwards.

To where the bed is.

It precarious, both of you walking backwards, your feet catching on the white fabrics. The fact that he doesn’t stop touching you isn’t helping.

You reach the bed and he sits down. You turn around to face his and you find him staring at you, passionate eyes focused on you. Only you.

You let the fabrics fall down, the slide smooth and slightly arousing, the little hairs on your body rising from suddenly being exposed to the chilled air. It’s not the first time he sees you naked. It’s not even first time today. But the marvel in his eyes is everything.

Climbing on top of him is always a challenge. Not because he is tall, not because he doesn’t want you on top of him. But every time your knees hit the mattress, he leans back until his shoulders hit the bed and you can only chase him.

_Like always._

The kiss is heated and his hands find their way into your hair. You ignore the pinpricks of pain, when he pulls them and you roll together on the bed.

Jongdae is so vocal it’s bizarre. The sounds are familiar, yet the pitch is foreign. You hear him sing so many times, and now he sings again, but lower. When he fucks you his main resonator is at the bottom of his abdomen. The sound is pooling, and whirling, and vibrating just above your mons pubis, even if the sound waves are concentrated on your neck.

He moans into your skin and you grab his hair, pulling him up. Even when you kiss, your body slide up the mattress every time he drives into you. Even when you kiss, his body vibrates with the sounds he muffle into your lips.

You are both dripping wet, you are both breathless, you are both hot, but still burning. You are engulfed in his scent, the scent of your arousal, the heat of his body, the hotness of his fingers on your skin.

You lay together in bed. He is supporting his head on his hand, his other hand drawing ornaments into your skin. You know it’s only a break now. One of you will drag the other down again. And soon.

You are sure that even when he leaves you he will remember those days, those nights, which you spent painting the pleasure into each other skin, marking the tissue with your want and fulfillment. The nights when your body was sated only when neither of you could move anymore, lips chapped, body dehydrated, legs tangled together.

You look up at Jongdae, and the crooked smile he sends you makes your heart flutter.

_You’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams._

* * *


	9. Press Your Number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Taemin's "Press Your Number". Kai's angsty smut.

The long, distinct sound breaches the silent room. The man on the bed doesn’t even hold a phone to his ear. His heart is beating slowly, the pace matching the frequency of the call sound. He knows deep in his mind that she is not going to pick up. She is not going to answer.

And she used to. The hour didn’t matter, he could have called her at all times, her soothing voice coming after the third signal. He subconsciously counts the signals, his heart falling. It’s hard not to feel the despair clawing on his emotions, depression stilling his bodily functions.

“You have reached…” He doesn’t wait for the cold, machine-like voice to end, he finally moves, hand clenching around his phone,  finger hitting end-of-call button. The rage fills his body, unknown urgency tempts him to throw the device across the room.

But that won’t bring her back.

That won’t let him hear her voice again. That won’t let him feel her breath on the shell of his ear. That won’t make her purr ‘Jongin’ in his ear.

Laying in the bed that used to hold both of them, long, sleepless nights, the passion keeping them up, it’s hard. It’s lonely, but he can still feel her skin under his hands. His fingertips still remember the uneven tissue, soft little hairs, the valley of her spine. His lips still remember her mouth, swollen red and half open in moan. His lips can still recall the sweetness of her neck, the exquisite feeling of her breasts under his mouth, the navel caught between his teeth.

His tongue still cannot forget her taste, salty skin, smooth labia. He can still imagine how it feels to be seated inside her, the silky passage, velvety walls, her back arching off the mattress, her hands clawing holes in his sheets. Eyes half open, never living his, prayer on her sinful lips.

The marks left on his skin, the rosy hickey on his neck, blazing red scratches on his back, swollen bite on his chest, the sweat, the cheeks tinted pink, never ending song, bodies dancing in the same rhythm.

And now his bed was cold, his heart lonely, his life empty.

Last time he saw her, her beautiful lips were pressed into a tight line. _It’s over._ Her hands were clasped together on the table. _I’m not going to hold your hand anymore._

Letting her go is not easy. Letting her go is impossible.

Her thighs hot on his hips, the slow rise, and hard slam down, her breasts jiggling in the air, mouth open in abandon. The sensual wail she emit when his hands bruise her hips. _Forgetting is impossible._

Need to see her is driving Jongin mad, the lonely night getting better of him. His hand once again finds his phone, he knows the number by heart.

_When it did become so deep?_

_I want to see you again._

_All I need is you._

_Answer me._


	10. It Won't Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Sevyn Streeter's "It Won't Stop". Sehun's smut.

There is nothing better than feeling wind in your hair. You can feel them whirling around headrest, smacking your face softly and you know later you’ll have a hell to pay for that moments of simple pleasure. Sun beams on your skin are warm and make you feel alive.

The engine hums pleasantly and the wheels spin smoothly on the tarmac. The road is mostly deserted, but what have you expected at this hour? The Sun has only now risen.

He called you at ungodly hour, ‘be here in five’ enough to awaken you. By the time he pulled under your windows you were ready, and you just run outside, first signs of new day yet to appear. No sooner had you closed his car’s door, he drove away. You didn’t ask where were you going. It’s not like it mattered.

You roll your head on the head rest and take him in. Slender, but manly hand on the wheel – he is sure enough to hold it with only one hand. You don’t see the other one, but you know he is resting his chin on it. He looks tired, and you are thankful that he uses his precious free time on you. He seems focused on the street, but he notices that you are looking at him, because you can see a small smile pulling on his lips. He straightens in his seat, the other hand coming up to hold a wheel, while the first hand lands on your thigh.

This touch is enough to warm your whole body. You close your eyes with a smile and his hand runs down to your knee, where he digs his fingers painfully in your kneecap. You jolt up and smack his arm. He is laughing and you are soon to follow. He shoots you playful smile and his hand is back on your thigh.

You ride like this, content, eyes closed, sun and his hand warming you up. Only when you feel the car stopping you open your eyes to see where he got you. But you don’t see much, since he reaches across you to grab the lever and your chair is thrown back abruptly. You only hear the click of his seat belt before he is all over you.

Your body catches on as soon as he kisses you. Your arms come up to hold him as he nips at your lover lip and you open your mouth in silent moan. His tongue slides between your lips, and you grab the hem of his shirt and tug it, to feel his skin.

It takes a lot of fumbling and a lot of bruises to feel later, all the things that were stuffed in the glove compartment are on the floor, left there in the search of condoms. The doors are accidentally kicked open in the process and the seat belt nearly chokes him, but finally you find yourself with your hands on his chest, nails leaving bright, red half moons on the pale skin, your knees splayed on both sides of his narrow hips, and he feels so amazing in you. You rock your body feeling how he moves inside you. You move slowly, languidly just like the waves you can hear behind your back. He looks up to you, his hands on your hips as he makes you rock your body more lively.

You must be one hell of a scene, but either way you won’t stop.

Just the two of you in the car, the bodies rocking, sliding together, seeking the  pleasure.

You look down, your eyes locked with his. You can feel his love seeping through his fingers onto your skin and you feel your own feelings swell in your chest. Every tissue in your body is constantly trying to get closer to him, trying to show the deep of your emotions.

_I love you ‘til infinity._


	11. Do What We Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Jay Park's "Do What We Do". Kai's smut.

Hand is sliding up your high. Slowly. Sensually. Leaving goose bumps in its wake. The hand is slim, yet definitely manly and strong, fingers long and probing. This simple touch is enough to make you wet, and combined with the rest of him, you are too overwhelmed to be coherent.

_Get on with it. Work it._

You know he is speaking, you are face to face, sofa’s leather cold under your knees. But you don’t get the meaning of his words, until he bucks under you, sending his penis just a little deeper into you. Your gasp that follows leaves your mouth open.

His lips travel up your jugular, collecting the perspiration gathering on your skin, and he starts talking when his lips reach your ear, voice deep and hoarse, penetrating your brain.

_Or maybe let’s take it to the room. In the bed, I’ll do you right all night._   
_Or we can slip into the shower, and make it last for hours._

Your hand clenches on his neck, vertebras hard under your fingertips, and you use your hold as a purchase to bring yourself up. This time it’s Jongin, who gasps, eyes fluttering close. The muscles in his face are already slack, pleasure beginning to take over. You slide down slowly, your legs trembling from the strain. Your pelvic floor muscles cramp, as you sit on his hips, and your body contracts as you suck in a shaky breath.

You don’t know when you have closed your eyes, but when you open them, he is taking in your face, eyes hot and intent, even if you can see the wetness in the corners of his eyes. He stares at you, at your sweated over frame, your heaving chest, your hard nipples, the goose bumps on the skin of your breasts. His desire is so potent that it’s nearly palpable.

You sense the moment in which he decides to make you speed up, hands clenching on your hips, but before he can use his strength, before he can work those biceps, you grab his wrists, and you pry his fingers free, only to entangle them with your own. You push his hands back, on the backrest of the sofa, until you can see the lines of his triceps straining the skin. Your torsos are flush against each other, and you can feel how his chest heaves. His stare is even more heated then a second ago, and you can taste his arousal in the air. You drag your teeth up his strained arm and whisper.

_Don’t rush._

He goes slack in your embrace, but he can’t takes his eyes of you when you go back to your fluid motions, up and down, with a hips roll in between. Your legs are burning, your insides are burning, your hands in his are burning, even the puffs of his breath on your skin are burning. Your toes are curling, your pelvic floor muscles are getting erratic, clamping in every time shorter intervals. You can feel drops of sweat sliding down your back, and your knees on the leather start to slip, the whole thing getting precarious.

But when he surges forward, his mouth brushing yours, and he whispers words of encouragement, you gather your strength to retort.

_The best is what you’re getting._

He claims your mouth, and you freeze, as his tongue licks the roof. He lets go, and once again he slumps on the sofa, and even if he is aroused out of his mind (just like you), tethering on the edge, he raises his eyebrow at you.

_Pushy._


	12. Alcohol Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Gary's "Alcohol Feeling". Chen's smut.

Red and green strobe light are showering the mass of bodies on the dance floor. They are sliding together, rubbing together, swaying together, smell of sweat and bodies in the air is adding to the intoxicating feeling of the club. Of course the most of the intoxication comes from alcohol.

Dark eyes scan the crowd, skimpy garments, large expanses of skin, eyes out of focus – it’s enough to describe most of the patrons. The burning of the Friday always brings out the people celebrating the weekend or simply wanting to get drunk and forget about the week that has just passed.

Jongdae is one of those who doesn’t really fit into the either of categories. He is not exactly sure why he is out there, getting drunk, the lasts of his third beer whirling in his bottle as he shakes it, bored. The venue is too hot, and he has forgone his laundry for far too long, and now his balls are sticking to his thigh, no clean underwear to shield him from this horrible feeling. There is a hand hitting him between shoulder blades, and the loud drunken giggle shots trough his ears, but it doesn’t matter, because he sees a person who will accompany him home tonight.

Her smile, fresh fragrance, tipsy laugh, his hand on her waist, drunken dance – it’s all it takes for him to find himself outside, hailing the cab.

Clothes thrown across his living room, staggering steps to bed, slightly mad laughter coming from two throats, when the bed is too far away and their bodies land on the soft carpet. Fingers bruising the want into the skin, teeth biting their way into each other’s mouth, limbs entwined in tries to get even closer. There is no strobe lights there, but there may as well be, the way they are sliding together, lost in the need, minds hazed over with voluptuous desire.

There is no rhythmic beating of the techno music, there are two hearts pumping the blood through the arteries. There are no alcoholic beverages to intoxicate their brains, there is an intoxicating smell of sex and want. She is writhing under him, rubbing herself on him, swaying her hips in the most welcomed invitation. First slide home is everything, first slide home explains why was there in the club.

Every next slides bring the burning feeling in his gut, in her core, they are burning together, and suddenly the ‘burning Friday’ has a new meaning, much more fitting meaning. Just like he fits perfectly into her hands, just like his head fits perfectly between her shoulder and neck, skin under his tongue salty and soft. She is sinking her nails into his back, the most gratifying compliment one can get. His knees are getting burned from the carpet, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is her sweated over skin, her closed eyes in the striking pleasure, mouth hanging open, and the chest heaving, her breasts just the perfect size for his hands.

It’s the best sensation, the best experience, intoxicated sex is just what he needed, what he wanted.

_Alcohol feeling._


	13. You&I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Crush's "You&I". Optional EXO member's smut.

The phone buzzes relentlessly In your hand. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know who is calling. But you can’t just pick it up. You excuse yourself and slide out the door. The wall is cold on your shoulder blades as you rise the mobile to your ear.

“When are you coming?”

You arrive in the middle on the night. Carryon left on the threshold, heels laying askew. You don’t turn the lights on, as you go further. You know the place. Your back remembers those walls, your butt recognizes the counter, your hands recall the table, your cheek revives the cold of the mirror, your knees reminisce the soft carpet.

You leave your jacket on the floor, jeans are quick to follow. You mark your way with your garments until you reach the bed. His limbs are thrown all over the place, he is taking much more space than it’s really necessary. The upper half of his body is bared and you glue yourself to his back, hand sliding under his stomach.

The warm sun amplified by glass hits your back. You can recognize the feeling and you groan and turn on your back. The bed dips next to you and the knowledge of being home hits you, just before the shadows cover your body. You smile, your eyes still closed, as your arms reach up and he comes down for a hug. He kisses your neck, and you exhale, perfectly, content, holding him close.

“Good morning.” His voice is a promise. It’s enough to wake your hormones, enough for you to start getting wet. His hands slide down your sides and your back arches as your body tries to follow his touch. Little hairs on your body stand up as if on the drill. The smell of your own excitement hits your nostrils, but the scent of his body, his bed, his own arousal is still predominant.

He grabs your hands and leads them to his waist, you exhale a breathy laugh, which is suddenly turned into hiccup as he enters you. He starts off slow and sensual. You keep your eyes closed, relishing in the sweet feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Your legs convulse every now and then, but overall it’s just a lazy, warm and totally amazing feeling.

“Gonna speed up now.” The words are murmured directly into your ear and you eyes fly open as he slams into you like he means it. Your fingers dig into his skin, nails dragging on the bone. You bite your lips, the sudden change of the pace is straining you out.

“You don’t have to hold back, when it’s only the two of us.” He manages to say between thrusts. Your hips come up on its own volition every time he slides in. You seek the closeness, your body seeks the pleasure. You laugh at his words, but true to its meaning, you moan just after when he cants his hips up.

“Look at me.” He pleads and you are surprised that you have closed your eyes. You open them and search for his eyes, your vision glazed over with tears forming from the intensity this experience. You find them, his stare intense. Once again he grabs your hands and this time he entwines his fingers with you and rests them on the mattress.

“For breakfast, lunch to dinner, I want to be together all day.” He whispers, but you can’t answer. You are too lost in your own pleasure, but your hips say what you just can’t.

_Till I die, till I die, baby._


	14. Cool Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Margaret's "Cool Me Down". Optional EXO member's smut.  
> It was supposed to be Chen, but his name doesn't appear anywhere, so it doesn't matter.

The smoke is still clinging to your frame.  You may have not been the one to smoke, but it’s the smell that seeps into every nook and it’s impossible to just air it out. But this scent brought with you the excitement and the buzz that you feel only at the club.

There is also another buzz, the pleasant throbbing of your head, mind clouded with alcohol, just enough of the intoxicant to get you warm and fuzzy.  The skin on your head is cold, but tingling, the sweat drying at the roots of your hair.

At least your makeup is mostly intact, you knew what you were doing using the waterproof products.

There is no point in checking your surroundings, not when you can see your goal. You are already hot, horny and wet, the only thing that you need right now is a flat surface.

He tries to kiss you again, your mouth are already swollen and pulsing, just like your painfully empty vagina, which is cramping around nothing. Your lipstick is mostly gone, some of it left on the corner of his mouth and around the bite you marked him with at the club. Making out with him is hot, but it’s not what you need right now, so you place your hand on his solar plexus and with your eyes fixed on his, you walk him to his bed. You see how he can’t get free from your stare and you fancy him just like that. He loses his balance when his calves hit the bed, but he would recover from that, if it wasn’t for your hand pushing him down.

He falls on the mattress with a thump, but he is not complaining, looking up to you, already supporting himself on his elbows. He rises his eyebrows at you – it’s more a challenge than invitation and you answer with your hands creeping under the hem of your dress. Your skin is scorching hot and the insides of your thighs are wet.

The moan he emits is painful, when he sees the black fabrics slide down your legs. You step out of your underwear and without even looking at his face, you straddle him, just like you did as soon as you climbed into the taxi. You sit directly on his groin, only jeans and his boxer shielding you from him - you know you are staining his pants. He tries to sit up, but once again you stop him with the hand on his chest. You are already half gone, but you have felt his chest under your fingers for the half of the night and you really want to see it. But you don’t have enough patience left so you just yank his shirt, buttons popping or just flying open. The sides of his garment fly sideways and he watches you with hot eyes, as you slide your hands up his chest, fingers coming up, and you drag them down, nails catching on his nipples.

You rut on him uncontrollably and you just know you need to feel him inside you. _Now._ You move down his legs, just enough to open his fly and to drag his jeans down. Again, you get it out of the way, far enough to be sure that his balls wouldn’t be scratched by the zipper.

You don’t need a painful surprise in the middle of your joy ride.

You don’t know how the condom found its way to his hand, but you don’t care. You just snatch it out of his hold, your tongue localizing the perforation and your teeth holding the corner, so you can open the package. The lubricant smears on your hands as you fumble to put it on him. It would be easier if you weren´t this drunk, but your aim is still good enough. Finally feeling his penis in your hands is amazing, even if the skin is shielded by the latex.

He throws his head back and groans. That make you rise on your knees and you roll up the hem of your dress to remove last obstacle and you scoot forward.

Your dress falls down like a shroud, soft material covering his hips. Your nails dig into your own scalp as the feeling of being completely full overwhelms you. Soft purr gathers in your throat, it’s been _so_ long. Your back is arched, your toes are curled and it’s so, so _perfect_ that your breath is shaky and your torso shivers as you relish in the feeling.

Adjusting to the sensation takes you longer than it should. Thankfully, your companion comes to the rescue: he sits up abruptly, his hands traveling up your clothed sides, and he noses the side of your neck, hot breath fanning your skin.

You whine, when he grabs your hips and makes you rise. The muscles in his arms are flexing and you are tempted to sink your nails in his biceps. Slide home is everything you needed, everything you desired.

The next time you are the one controlling the lifting. Your hips lead the movement, driving forward, when you move up, your body following in the tight wave, and pushing back when you go down. Your mouth is hanging open, saliva gathering around your tongue. Muscles in your thighs are being stretched uncomfortably, but that doesn’t make you stop. Your hands moved to claw at your own nape, but it doesn’t matter, you feel just like when you were dancing at the club. Only better.

Your movement is as fluid, as sensual as then, your body kept contained by the tight bodice. Fabrics clinging to your skin is enriching your experience.

You didn’t notice the moment you closed your eyes, but part your eyelids hearing the thump and feeling the dip of the bed. He has fallen back on the mattress, arms under his head and he stares at you, eyes hooded and hot. Watching you pleasure yourself on his cock seems to please him as well.

You are covered in sweat, the perspiration, gathering on your skin, drops sliding down your frame. It won’t cool you, it won’t give you a relief. It won’t extinguish the fire that consumes your body.

You love the way he watches you, intently, hawklike. You love it when your body is in flames, every sensation adding to the burning desire in your gut. You are still dancing, you are still the spark able to blaze his mind.

And you won’t back down from this feeling. You’ll embrace it, you’ll welcome it.

Tonight, you’ll burn together.


End file.
